


From Russia, With Fluff

by baroque_mongoose



Category: Girl Genius
Genre: Battle, Gen, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-17 06:15:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3518483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baroque_mongoose/pseuds/baroque_mongoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gil and his allies are at war again, and this time they have help from Prince Dmitri of Russia and his formidable regiment of were-samoyeds, led by the redoubtable Commander Tatiana.</p>
<p>Und Dimo iz in luff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Russia, With Fluff

Juan Covas Arroyo really did not know when to give up. Having failed to get anywhere against Gil and his allies the first time, and lost his dragon in the process, he was now attacking again. This time, Gil had not only Agatha, Tarvek and a British contingent to assist him; since it looked like being a rather longer war this time, he also had help from Russia. Tsarina Elisaveta was now firmly established as regent until her daughter Tsarevna Ekaterina reached majority, and she had never forgotten the help that both Gil and my country had afforded her when she fled from Russia following the assassination of her husband. Consequently, she had sent Prince Dmitri and his crack regiment.

I should, perhaps, explain at this point that Prince Dmitri has appeared before in these memoirs, but not under that name. He is the Tsarina's half-brother, and he was originally Prince Tadeusz of Poland; but, like the Tsarina herself, he took a Russian name for sound political reasons when he went to live there. He is a very strong spark, which is not entirely surprising, since he is the son of the late Queen Ewa of Poland and Martellus von Blitzengaard, and he has vivid magenta hair to show for that. When he was younger, his various guardians insisted on dyeing it for his safety; but at the time of these events he was sixteen years old and leading his own regiment, and if he was old enough to lead a regiment, he was also old enough to determine what to do with his own hair. It was therefore now appearing in all its natural glory.

Considering who his parents had been, Prince Dmitri was a remarkably likeable young man. But then he had never met his father, and he would not recall his mother, since she had been killed in the war not long after he was born. He did, however, take after his father in one important respect. He liked constructs; and he was exceedingly good with them.

“He's brought _what_?” asked Gil. We were sitting in the war room on Castle Wulfenbach, waiting for the Prince's flyer to arrive.

“You mean you don't have a spy?” asked Tarvek, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, several, but they can't be everywhere at once,” replied Gil, rather testily. “I suppose you knew all about this, did you?”

“Not quite all,” Tarvek admitted. “But I did have some idea.”

Agatha beamed. “I think they sound amazing.”

General Drew-Murgatroyd, who was in charge of the British forces, coughed. “I think they sound decidedly unpredictable,” she said.

“Und vot iz wrong vit vere-samoyeds?” asked Mamma Gkika.

“Well,” said General Drew-Murgatroyd, “what happens, for instance, if there's a full moon?”

“I believe that's werewolves,” I replied.

“Wolves, dogs, not much difference,” said the General. “Especially when they're trained for battle.”

“These are constructs, General,” I explained. “They will have been, shall we say, optimised. I very much doubt they will have problems with moonlight.”

“Ja,” Dimo put in. “His daddy's volves neffer did.”

Zeetha, Violetta and Mr Higgs had been waiting in the docking bay to escort the Prince to the war room. Now, they brought him in, together with a most impressive-looking woman. She was about my height, but much more solidly built; and with her pale skin, cascade of white hair and protruding fangs, she was somewhat reminiscent of a female version of Oggie. The resemblance ended abruptly, however, when one saw her eyes. They were so dark brown as to be almost black, hardly any of the whites were visible, and they glinted with a keen intelligence.

“It is good to see you all again,” said the Prince. “Allow me to introduce Commander Tatiana. She leads my regiment.”

The inevitable greetings followed; but I do not miss much, and I could not help noticing the way Dimo was reacting. He looked rather as though he had just been sandbagged. Dimo, being green, is unable to blush, but when he came to greet Tatiana he might just as well have done. He was awkward and tongue-tied, and shuffled off behind Agatha at the first opportunity. One cannot always keep Cupid out of even a war room.

“Now,” said the Prince, “I wonder if you could indulge me, Herr Baron? I should like to show you what my warriors can do, and Tatiana is quite happy to oblige. If one of these two Jägers here is in the mood for a fight...”

“Hy iz!” Dimo exclaimed, immediately.

Dmitri smiled. “Thank you, Dimo. If I recall correctly, there is quite a large lounge next door? They will need some space.”

“There is,” Gil replied. “All right, let's see what Tatiana can do.”

We filed through into the adjacent lounge, where there was already quite a good space. We enlarged it by pulling the furniture back against the wall. “Ready?” asked the Prince.

Both combatants nodded. “Very well. Go!”

The fight was noisy, dramatic, but surprisingly short. It ended with Dimo prone on the floor, being sat on by Tatiana, whose tongue was now hanging out disconcertingly. “Hey,” he said. “Hyu hit really goot. Vant a date?”

“You want a date?” said Tatiana, looking down at him. “You'll have to fight better than that.”

“Hy vos dazzled by hyu beauty,” said Dimo.

Tatiana rolled her eyes. “Oh, give it a rest.”

“Hey,” said Mamma Gkika. “Dun go judgink us Jägers by dis soppy eediot. Hyu fight _me_ now, hokay?”

“My pleasure,” said Tatiana. She picked Dimo up off the floor, dusted him down, and propelled him back towards Agatha. “Now let's see what you've got.”

If I were a betting man, I would have put money on Gkika, despite what had just happened to Dimo; and I would, as it turned out, have been justified. Jägers, as a general rule, grow stronger with age, and Gkika is considerably older than Dimo. It was a much harder fight, and several times it looked as though it could have gone either way. Seeing that she was not making enough headway in her human form, Tatiana changed into canine form, and I had to admire the way her armour changed with her; Dmitri had thought very hard about the places where it needed to be flexible. Finally, though, Gkika got both hands round her chest and lifted her up above her head. Tatiana struggled and kicked, but it was obvious that the fight was over.

“Hokay, Dimo,” said Gkika, with a wicked grin. “Now hyu know how to fight. Hyu do it next time, hey?”

Tatiana wriggled back into her human form. “All right. Put me down, will you?”

“Sure ting, sveethot,” replied Gkika, suiting the action to her words. “Hy like hyu. Vos a goot fight.”

“Impressive,” said Gil. “Can they all fight like that?”

“Pretty much,” replied the Prince. “You won't go far wrong if you take one were-samoyed as being approximately equivalent to one Jäger. Of course, they do have individual variations, the same as Jägers do. They're not all equally strong, nor for that matter equally intelligent. Tatiana is very bright.”

“And that is why I lead the others,” said Tatiana, matter-of-factly.

“Der brawn, de brains und der beauty,” said Dimo.

“Knock me down and we'll talk, Jäger boy,” replied Tatiana.

“Do you think you two could manage to save the sex and violence for later?” asked Tarvek.

Tatiana raised a snowy eyebrow. “Who said anything about sex?”

General Drew-Murgatroyd harrumphed. “I say, there is a war on, you know.”

“How many have you brought, Your Highness?” asked Agatha.

“Five hundred,” the Prince replied. “Not a large regiment, but a very powerful one, as I'm sure you can imagine.”

“Excellent,” said Gil. “Let's go and look at deploying them.”

“Hey,” said Zeetha. “Suppose these two do get together... what's going to happen? Puppies?”

“Would you like me to knock you to the other end of this lounge?” asked Tatiana frostily.

“Feel free to try,” said Zeetha.

“Not now!” said Agatha, hastily. “You can beat each other up all you like later, but for the moment we've got to talk strategy.”

“And not just that,” added Violetta. “Tatiana and her regiment are clearly great fighters, but I assume they're not invulnerable. We're going to need to know what the drill is when they're wounded. If a Jäger is seriously hurt, Agatha has to treat them personally.”

Prince Dmitri nodded. “Yes; it is the same in this case. My were-samoyeds heal well, on the whole, but if there is anything too serious I have to intervene. You can give them ordinary basic first aid if they need it, though.”

“Here is a tip for you,” said Tatiana. “If we look to be badly hurt but are still in human form, you can ignore it. We heal better in our canine form, and so if we get a very bad wound, we change.”

“Thank you,” said Violetta. “That's useful to know.”

We were now all back in the war room. Tatiana might have sounded a little cold with Dimo, but her body language rather suggested otherwise; I suspected that she really found him quite attractive, but she had her pride. Still, those two would have to sort things out between themselves. Just at the moment, as General Drew-Murgatroyd had pointed out, there were more urgent matters to consider.

“What do these circles represent?” asked the Prince, examining the layout on the simulation table.

Tarvek beamed. “Ah, those are my pride and joy. They're the defensive shields for the civilians.”

“Oh, of course! Now I recall hearing that you used them the last time Arroyo attacked.”

“I've improved them since,” said Tarvek. “The original version had to be taken down temporarily to let people in or out, for instance if there was a delivery. This version doesn't need that, and so it's more secure. I've created an archway from a special material; the field can't exist within the archway. What happens is that, most of the time, the whole archway is inside the field, but when anyone needs to go in or out the field can be made very slightly smaller so that its boundary coincides with the archway. And, obviously, the archway can be moved around, so if the enemy decides to camp on one side of the city because that's where it is, the inhabitants can just slip it round the other side when they're asleep.”

Dmitri's eyes gleamed. “Ah! You say the field can't exist within the archway. Are you by any chance using a van der Meer field, with calcite crystals incorporated into the structure of the arch?”

“Oh, well done,” said Tarvek, appreciatively. “Right first time, Your Highness.”

“How do you keep it stable?”

“Ahem,” I said. “Could we please have the technical discussion later, gentlemen? I need to talk to the Prince and Commander Tatiana about wireless operations.” I was in charge of these; since I was no longer of much use on a battlefield, but I could make swift tactical decisions in an emergency, this had been universally agreed to be my natural role.

I gave the two of them a thorough briefing, but while I was talking I noted the expression on Tarvek's face, and I wondered if he was thinking the same as I was. Knowing Tarvek, he not only was, but had got there first. Martellus von Blitzengaard had disappeared several years ago; the rumour was that he had been killed by some of his own retainers, but personally I will never believe any member of the Valois clan is dead until I see the body, and even then I prefer to have a spark around who can check for mind transference technology. However, since Tarvek had no official heir, von Blitzengaard was theoretically next in line for the title of Storm King; but if he was dead or not around to claim it, the title would go to Dmitri.

I had a feeling Tarvek was not at all unhappy with that.

There was, of course, always the matter of Agatha's daughter Lilith, now twelve years old and a strong spark in her own right. One could argue that she was Tarvek's heir. But then, one could equally well argue that she was Gil's heir, since by means of some of von Blitzengaard's technology the two of them had equal paternity. The question had been settled a long time ago by a tacit agreement that Lilith was _Agatha's_ heir, and that was that; regardless of her unusual paternity, she was the next Heterodyne, and if the other two wanted heirs they would have to go about it in the regular way. Neither of them, so far, had done so, although Gil had adopted and Tarvek was seriously thinking about it.

There could certainly be diplomatic advantages if Tarvek were to declare Dmitri his heir. At the moment, he got on well with his niece, who was only a few years younger than he was; but things can change, and when they do so in royal houses it can be disastrous. Dmitri was clever, ambitious, of undeniably royal blood, and a powerful spark. If he ever took it into his head to try to claim the throne of Russia, there would be another civil war, and the country had taken more than long enough to recover from the last one. But, as Storm King, he could have his own legitimate power, and he would probably be quite capable of taking over where Tarvek left off.

As I finished the briefing, there was a tap at the door. Gil opened it to admit a messenger. “Is Prince Dmitri here?” he enquired.

The Prince stepped forward. “Yes. What is it?”

“Madame Rostropova has been taken ill,” said the messenger.

“How ill? Is it serious?” asked the Prince.

The messenger shuffled his feet. “Er... well, the problem is, it's a stomach upset. She needs to be... er... near the plumbing at all times.”

“Dammit,” said Dmitri. “Go and give her my best wishes for a speedy recovery, and if she gets bad enough to need a doctor I want to know about it.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” The messenger hurried away.

“That's my charioteer out of action,” said the Prince. “Can't be helped, of course; these things happen. But it's a nuisance. Now I'll have to get one of the samoyeds to drive, and that's one fewer fighter.”

“We must have someone among us who can do that for you,” said Agatha. “Someone who's intelligent, but wouldn't normally be fighting.”

“Ardsley,” said Gil, at once.

“Well... I wouldn't mind,” I replied, “but the wireless ops...”

“You've got a deputy,” Gil reminded me. “Come on. I know you like to feel you're being useful.”

“And you're used to spark technology, and you speak fluent Russian,” said Agatha. “Gil's right. You'd be a great person for the job. Besides, it may only be for one or two battles; it depends how quickly Madame Rostropova recovers.”

General Drew-Murgatroyd looked doubtful. “I'm really not sure we ought to be risking his lordship on the battlefield,” she said.

“It's hardly a risk,” replied the Prince. “Have you actually seen my battle chariot, General?”

“Well, no, but... obviously, Your Highness, if you're fighting from it, you're going to be attacked. I wouldn't have thought I needed to spell that out.”

“General,” said the Prince coldly, “I may be rather less than half your age, but I am also quite capable of not only leading my own regiment, but constructing it in the first place. Do not presume to address me as a child.”

“I'm sorry, Your Highness,” replied the General hastily. “I was merely concerned for Lord Heversham's safety.”

“Rather than making an abstract argument of it,” I suggested, “why don't we go and look at this chariot and see for ourselves what position I am to be put in?”

“Good plan,” said Tarvek promptly. “I should very much like to see it at close quarters. And, besides, you'll probably want one of my shield devices for your camp.”

The Prince bowed slightly. “Thank you, Cousin Tarvek. That would, indeed, be useful.”

In the end, six of us went down in the Prince's flyer: the Prince himself, Tatiana, the General, Tarvek, Dimo and myself. Dimo, strictly speaking, had not been invited, but nobody was actually telling him to stay behind, so he followed us on board. We landed just outside the camp, and Tarvek took out one of his shield devices and explained to the Prince and Tatiana how to use it.

“You're in charge of that, Tatiana,” said the Prince.

Tatiana nodded. “Very good, Your Highness.”

It was not large, as military camps went, but it was very well organised. During the short time the Prince had been on Castle Wulfenbach, the were-samoyeds had set up all the tents and other temporary structures. A small gang of them was now industriously digging a latrine trench outside the main camp area, not far from where we had landed. As we walked into the camp, I saw that there were humans there, too: engineers, cooks, administrators, and all the other non-combat jobs that go with a military operation. Of course, some of that work would still be done by the were-samoyeds when they were not actually fighting, but it was humans who were co-ordinating it, and on whom the final responsibility for it fell. Cooking, for instance, is very necessary, but you do not take powerful fighters out of a battle to peel potatoes.

“Zo,” said Dimo. “Vhich iz hyu tent, den, Miz Tatiana?”

“And why would you need to know that?” Tatiana demanded. Nonetheless, she could not quite prevent a trace of a grin from appearing, and that was not lost on Dimo.

“Zo hy ken stand guard outside all night und make sure hyu izn't disturbed,” he replied, gallantly.

“H'mm,” said Tatiana. “That's actually the right answer. You're brighter than you look, aren't you?”

“Ve Jägers iz not all eediots,” Dimo replied.

“Here it is,” said the Prince. “What do you think?”

It was, indeed, a war chariot; but I very much doubted that, for instance, Boudicca would have recognised it as such. The two spiked wheels at the sides might have rung a bell with her, but she would certainly have wondered where the horses were, and what that thing at the front was. The thing in question was a large spherical wheel, held at a short distance from its socket by magnetic repulsion, enabling very easy manoeuvrability. The driver sat in an armoured cab over this socket, attached to the main body of the chariot by a complex hinge. The chariot itself was open, with low sides and corner posts; the sides had flaps which could be folded upwards and hooked to the posts if need be, so that the occupant could fire from a protected position through holes in these flaps. There was an impressive assortment of spark weaponry in the chariot.

“It looks good,” I replied. “How is it powered?”

“Solar steam, mostly, with back-up electric cells,” replied Dmitri. “Would you like to get in and see if you can drive it?”

“Certainly,” I said. “I should be able to. I've driven most things in my time.”

I climbed into the cab, which was not a difficult undertaking, since there was a step that folded down. The controls proved to be fairly straightforward; I soon worked out what was what by a combination of well-educated guesswork and, where that failed, old-fashioned trial and error. I backed it up and took it for a short spin around a group of tents, then drove it back to its starting point and climbed out again.

“Very nice handling,” I said. “Frisky, but then it needs to be in battle. I get the strong impression it's a lot lighter than it looks as though it should be. We're not going to be upended by one of Arroyo's big clanks, are we?”

“Doubtful,” replied the Prince. “It's fast. Much faster than they are, by all accounts.”

Tarvek stroked his chin. “So... if it's lighter than it looks, what's it made of, Cousin Dmitri?”

The Prince grinned. “Holes, Cousin Tarvek. No, I'm serious. Most of the solid-looking parts are actually a thin solid layer over a three-dimensional mesh. But it's amazing what one can do with mesh.” He drew his gun and fired a long blast at the side of the chariot. Nothing happened, except that the metal glowed slightly from the heat. He turned to the General. “Well, General Drew-Murgatroyd? Safe enough, do you think?”

“That is, admittedly, a very well armoured cab, Your Highness,” replied the General. “If his lordship wishes to drive it...”

“Yes,” I said. “I do wish to drive it. I'm confident I know what I'm doing, and I'm happy to be of use, just as long as I really am the best person for the job.”

“And you don't object to being ordered about by a mere boy?” asked the Prince sardonically.

I raised an eyebrow. “I don't see that your age comes into it.”

The dig, I knew very well, had not been aimed at me. I sighed inwardly. General Drew-Murgatroyd was a brilliant soldier, but in some ways she was inclined to be more than a little hidebound. That might not have mattered so much if the Prince had not been sensitive on the subject of his age, but he was, and therefore it did. No doubt there were voices back in Russia saying that he was still too young to be sent out at the head of an army. No doubt he felt he had to prove himself to them.

Arroyo had learnt a lot from his previous attempt. Last time, he had come storming in with a direct attack on Castle Wulfenbach. This time, however, he was advancing far more slowly and carefully, trying to consolidate his position before attempting to gain further ground. He had also decided against constructing another dragon; instead, he now had a significantly enlarged fleet of airships. Most of these were fighting ships, but a few of them were being used for supplies. From Arroyo's point of view, that made a great deal more sense than trying to bring them in over land.

Consequently, the front line was still several kilometres away. The Jägers were out there, under the temporary command of Maxim, fighting alongside Gil's forces. Tarvek's ground forces were currently trying to get round behind the enemy unseen and stage an ambush; his airships, for the most part, were working with Gil's. The British troops were split. Most of them were fighting at the front line, a few had gone with Tarvek's forces, and a small but highly trained contingent had gone round the other side of the enemy, well away from Tarvek's troops. If there was any sign that Tarvek's forces had been spotted, their job would be to make as much trouble as they could on the opposite flank.

“Are the troops ready?” asked the Prince, turning to Tatiana.

Tatiana nodded. “If they're not, I'll have words. I'll muster them now.”

Dmitri looked at me. “We'll be leaving in a few minutes.”

“Understood,” I replied. I climbed back into the cab.

“Hey, Hyu Highness,” said Dimo. “Hyu got room for me?”

“Certainly,” replied the Prince. “Get in. What about you, Cousin Tarvek?”

“I'll be following with Gil and Agatha,” said Tarvek. “I need my battle suit.”

“Ah, of course,” said the Prince. “My pilot will take you and the General back up to Castle Wulfenbach.”

The were-samoyeds could run far and fast in dog form without appreciably tiring, and so, once they were all mustered, they transformed at Tatiana's command. Prince Dmitri climbed into his chariot alongside Dimo. “Full speed ahead,” he said. “Don't worry about the troops. I assure you, they will keep pace.”

When Tatiana had briefly changed into her canine form earlier, she had been a constant blur of action, and so I had not seen her face clearly. Now, I could see the faces of the nearest soldiers, and it was an odd experience. These were fierce warriors, as tough and dangerous as the Jägerkin; but, apart from their armour, one would not have guessed it. They stood in their ranks, white fluffy tails arched over their backs, most of them wagging enthusiastically; and every single one of them appeared to be smiling. Perhaps it was just something to do with the shape of a samoyed's face; but, whatever it was, I was quite certain that the enemy would have an irresistible urge to pat them on the head until they realised their mistake.

We moved fast. The chariot had a good turn of speed, and the were-samoyeds, as the Prince had said, kept up easily. They ran alongside us swiftly and smoothly, occasionally letting out an excited bark. It seemed almost no time before we could hear the sounds of battle ahead of us, and a few seconds later we crested a small hill and saw the mayhem. Both sides had the capacity for aerial bombardment, and this had had the effect of splitting up the ground forces to ensure that any bomb dropped would not take out a whole unit, and might cause as much damage to the bomber's own troops as to the opposite side. Therefore, it was more or less every fighter for himself, herself or itself, as the case might be; the last category referred mainly to the clanks, who were mostly attacking each other, though some of them were also engaging with other forces.

“Which way, Your Highness?” I asked.

“I think we'll go for that clank.” He shouted an order to the were-samoyeds to disperse and attack as they saw the opportunity, all except for Tatiana, who was to come with us. “Now, full throttle, Lord Heversham!”

One of our national newspapers described me once as being ambivalent about war. I am no such thing. I am completely against it. Unfortunately, it takes only one party to make a war, not two. Unlike Tweedledum and Tweedledee, nations very rarely agree to have a battle; what usually happens is that one party invades, and the battle is thereby forced on the other. Some wars can be prevented by good diplomacy, but not all of them. If someone is determined to break the peace, the peace will be broken, and then one must fight to restore it. It is ironic, but sadly it is true.

And that was why I, the “man of peace” as Tarvek calls me, drove the Prince's chariot at full tilt down the hill like Jehu son of Nimshi into the thick of the battle. The Prince was on his feet, and as soon as he was within range he opened fire on the huge clank. Dimo vaulted out of the chariot and landed alongside Tatiana; the two of them were soon fully occupied in dealing with the human troops who were staying close to the clank for protection.

“Swerve to the right,” the Prince shouted. “Get round the side of it. It doesn't manoeuvre as well as we do. No, not that far out. Left a bit. That _zek_ with the bayonet who's coming at us – run him down. Ha! No, don't chase him, not unless he tries again. We're going for the clank. More to the right. Keep it confused. Good man.”

The clank swung round and sent a blast of fire straight at my cab. It raised the temperature to levels I had previously experienced only in Lucknow, but the roof above me held firm. Gasping and sweating, I struggled out of my jacket, keeping first one hand and then the other on the tiller as we careened around the clank's legs. The chariot rocked alarmingly as it caught another blast.

“Are you all right, Your Highness?” I called.

“I'm fine. You'll know if I'm dead. I'll stop shouting.”

“I thought so, but you're vulnerable up there...”

He laughed. “Not as vulnerable as you think, my lord.”

I risked a glance round at him, and was just in time to see him take a direct hit. The horror must have been evident in my face, because he laughed again. “You see, I really am all right!” he said. “I have gone one up on Cousin Tarvek, but we won't tell him just yet.”

“Still a van der Meer field, but you have worked out how to shape it, and you have calcite crystals sewn into your cuffs?” I enquired.

He stared at me. “I didn't know you were a spark.”

“I'm not. I just have a good memory and reasonable powers of deduction, Your Highness. And also, of course, I've worked with a number of sparks in my time.”

He smiled sidelong. “I should have recalled how intelligent you are.”

“Well,” I said, “it is quite a while since we last met.”

The clank, seeing that it was getting nowhere, gave up on trying to roast us and turned its attention to protecting its human comrades, who had their hands very full with Dimo and Tatiana. However, everyone was fighting so close together that it could not, at the moment, fire at either of them without injuring its own troops, and so it resorted to bending down and making a grab for Dimo. Dimo ducked out of the way, then jumped up, wrapping his arms around the clank's forearm just above its wrist. It straightened up and tried to pluck him off with the other hand, but Dimo was not going anywhere.

“What's he doing?” the Prince demanded.

“I imagine he'll be trying to get to its head,” I replied. “I've seen a Jäger do something like that before. Maybe we ought to give it something else to think about, so he's got a chance?”

“What more could we be doing?” he asked. “Hard left!”

I swung the chariot round. “This might not be easy, but could you go for its free hand?”

“I can try,” replied Dmitri. “And that ought to be more vulnerable than the rest of it. Those finger joints have to be relatively delicate.”

He leaned back, firing almost directly upwards at the clank's fingers. Part of one of them came off and clattered onto the roof of my cab; this mesh of Dmitri's was wonderful stuff, and it did occur to me to wonder if it might possibly incorporate a cluster of tiny cellular van der Meer fields. I was temporarily deafened, but the roof shrugged off the impact easily.

“Reverse! I need a better angle.”

I reversed, incidentally knocking down a couple of soldiers who had not been expecting it. Tatiana bounded up out of nowhere and made quite sure they stayed down. A bullet ricocheted off her armour and pinged against one of the wheel spikes, bending it slightly. It probably did not make it any less dangerous.

The clank was trying to keep its free hand out of the line of fire, and Dimo was, as I had expected, taking full advantage of the situation by climbing up its other arm. When he reached its shoulder, he caught hold of what was probably its ear and pulled himself upright; realising what was happening, it made another attempt to dislodge him, but it was too late. Dmitri had finally succeeded in blowing its hand off at the wrist.

“Oh, well done, Your Highness,” I said. “Do you want me to pull in close again, or are you going to go for the other hand?”

“I'm going to go for the other hand. They're weak spots. It can't fire without its fingers.”

As the clank's other hand rose towards Dimo, the Prince aimed a barrage of fire at it. The wrist gave way and the hand flopped, but another battle clank was striding up at a great speed to help its comrade. “We need to move,” I shouted.

The Prince glanced round. “Go where you need.”

The second clank was in range now, and firing at us from its fingertips. I slewed round to the left. In its other hand, the clank was carrying a club made from an uprooted tree trunk stripped of its branches, and as it came closer it tried to bring this down on Dmitri's head. The chariot darted and weaved among friend and foe alike, and I was grateful for its extremely light handling.

The thing was suddenly in front of us, and just to one side. I threw the chariot into reverse so that the blow would hit the roof of my apparently indestructible cab, rather than landing on Dmitri, who would at the very least be knocked off his feet by it, shield suit or no shield suit. But the clank was fast enough to allow for that; the blow hit neither Dmitri nor my roof, but came crashing down on the joint between the cab and the rest of the chariot. It gave, and the last thing I saw on the ground as the cab fell backwards was a very familiar battle suit. I gave fervent thanks. Evidently the flyers from Castle Wulfenbach had now arrived, and Agatha was about to give the second clank enough trouble to make sure it left both Dmitri and me well alone.

I had just enough time to roll up my jacket very roughly, put it behind my head and neck, and lean as far forward as I could before the impact; I was undoubtedly going to be injured, but I intended to make as certain as possible that that injury did not involve a cracked skull or broken neck vertebrae. I would be safe enough in the cab for a while, unless one of the clanks got close enough to rip the door off, but for that very reason I knew I would not be considered a priority. Those who were wounded and had no protection needed to be taken off the battlefield first, and that was as it should be. Still, I had no wish to expire while I was waiting until someone could move me.

The back of the cab hit the ground with a heavy thud. The jacket, thankfully, did its job; I was dazed for a few seconds, and I knew I was going to end up with a stiff neck for a while, but that was all. My back, however, took the brunt of the impact, and it did not fare so well. I could not tell exactly what had happened, only that it was agonisingly painful when I tried to move. This was, to say the least, awkward. Now that I had landed, I wanted to take my jacket out from under my head and drape it over my upper body so that I did not get chilled. That was not going to happen.

I was now, perforce, looking upwards, which gave me an excellent view of Dimo's efforts with the original clank. He was taking out all its sensors in a methodical and yet highly enthusiastic fashion. The clank was trying to knock him out of the way with its damaged hands, but it was doing so very ineffectually, and I was sure it could no longer tell exactly where he was. The pain was bearable as long as I did not try to move, and, honestly, it was almost worth it for the show I was seeing.

Once it was obvious that the clank was not going to be of any further use to the enemy, Dimo climbed down, where I could no longer see him. I could hear determined barking and growling just outside the cab, and wondered exactly what was going on.

“All right, all right,” said a familiar voice. “It's me. Baron Wulfenbach.”

The barking stopped abruptly. Gil wrenched open the door of the cab and peered in. “What state are you in, Ardsley?” he asked.

“Probable spinal injury. I'll need a stretcher, I think. But I'm not dying, and the cab is pretty much everything-proof, so you can leave me here for a while. However, if you could just get my jacket over me I'd be grateful.”

“The cab may be everything-proof, but the door isn't,” Gil pointed out. “Fortunately, you do have an extremely efficient guard dog. Tatiana is not letting anyone near you unless she's quite sure she knows who they are.”

“Und hyu got me, too,” said Dimo, his head appearing in the opening alongside Gil's. “If anyvun tries to bother hyu, hy vill be askink dem zum qvestions. Vit my fists.”

“What about the Prince?” I asked. “Is he all right?”

“The Prince is just fine,” replied Gil, “and when I see him, I'm going to have a very long talk with him, because I want to know how the hell he's protecting himself. I've seen him take a direct hit and walk away.”

“Van der Meer field,” I replied. “With calcite crystals sewn into his cuffs, so that his hands are free to use a weapon. And I doubt you'll get a chance to talk to him before Tarvek does.”

Gil blinked. “Once a spy, always a spy, Ardsley.”

I laughed, and then winced. It hurt. “He told me of his own accord,” I replied, innocently.

“They always do,” said Gil. “Right – I've got clanks to bash. But I'll see to it that you get stretchered off as soon as possible.” He sighed. “Heaven knows what your General is going to say.”

“She's a worthy woman, but it's my business, not hers,” I replied. “I saw you take out that clank, Dimo, and I wouldn't have missed that for the world.”

Dimo grinned from ear to ear. “Vos fun!”

“Leave the door open a crack, please, Gil,” I said. “It'll help keep the cab ventilated. Oh, and if you've got a moment, my jacket...?”

“Yes, of course. Sorry.” He reached in and pulled it as gently as he could from under my head, then arranged it over my chest and arms. “I'm amazed you got it off before you hit the ground.”

“Oh, I took it off earlier. The clank tried to oven-roast me in my cab. But I'm getting chilly now. Thanks, Gil.”

Once Gil had gone, there was a brief pause before Dimo said, “Zo. Hyu reckon hy can fight now, Miz Tatiana?”

There was another pause. Evidently Tatiana was changing into her human form so that she could talk. “Yes,” she replied. “I reckon you can. That wasn't bad. Not bad at all, in fact.”

“Zo, do hy schtill haff to knock hyu down?”

Tatiana laughed. “I think not. The clank is an acceptable substitute.”

“Ho. Goot,” said Dimo. “Zo... iz a date?”

“Yes. It's a date,” replied Tatiana. “Though, you know, word to the wise... it's not really about whether or not you can fight.”

“Den vy did hyu say it vos?” asked Dimo, baffled.

“Because you caught me off balance, although I don't suppose that was obvious at the time,” Tatiana explained. “It was the first thing I could think of to say that gave me time to think. I didn't need to know if you could fight, although I'll grant it's good that you can; what I really needed to know was what sort of person you are. I've met so many men who just think I'd be a really exotic notch to carve on the bedpost, if you follow me.”

“Iz vimmin like dot too,” said Dimo. “Vimmin vot hang around Jägers because ve iz different. Dey tink ve iz a status symbol.”

“ _Bozhe moy_ , you really do understand, don't you?” said Tatiana, with feeling. “Anyway, the moment you said you wanted to stand outside my tent and guard me all night, that was the moment I knew I was almost certainly dealing with a decent person.” I could hear the smile in her voice.

“Vot else vould I vant to do?” asked Dimo. “Unless hy got an invitation, of course. Dot iz different. Very different.”

I coughed. “Er, you two... I don't want to play gooseberry here, you know...”

“Iz hokay, Earl,” said Dimo. “Iz two of de boys comink right now vit a stretcher.”

The process of extracting me from the cab was difficult, delicate and excruciatingly painful; they gave me a painkilling injection, but it took a while to take effect, and I think I was only half conscious by the time they had me safely out and on the stretcher. There was still fighting going on around us, but these were Jägers and they could move fast. Within minutes, I was on board one of Gil's flyers and being attended to by the medical team.

Mercifully, although my spine itself was damaged as I had suspected, my spinal cord was intact. I was not going to end up either paralysed or made out of more metal than the Abbot of St Szpac. I was going to be walking around inside a clank exoskeleton until the damage had fully healed, but at least I was going to be walking around and not confined to bed. Spark science may be highly unpredictable, but it is certainly not all bad.

By the time we all returned to Castle Wulfenbach, I was in a fit state to join the others in the war room, to the very obvious relief of Gil in particular. “Glad to see you're up and about, Ardsley,” he said. “You're not going to be stuck in that thing permanently, I hope? Because if you are, I can probably do something about that.”

I shook my head, which was much easier now I was being held in a stable position. “No, just until the bones set. The main problem is not being able to bend, but for that I have this.” I unhooked a grabber tool from the side of the frame.

“Can you sit down?” asked the General. “I haven't seen that design before.”

“Oh, yes. My knees still work. It's just my spine I can't bend.” I demonstrated; the clank folded in complicated ways to allow me to take a seat.

“With all respect, my lord, I did try to tell you driving that chariot was dangerous...” she began.

I cut her off. “I'm alive, yes? And by the time Prince Dmitri is able to get the chariot repaired, I dare say Madame Rostropova will have recovered from her unfortunate illness.”

The Prince himself entered at this point, in close conversation with Tarvek. “Ah, you are all right, my lord, or at least reasonably so,” he observed. “I'm sorry you were hurt, but glad it was nothing worse. Thank you; you did a good job.”

I inclined my head forward. “I would stand up and bow, but in the circumstances it is a little awkward,” I said.

“Quite understandable,” said the Prince.

“I'm so glad you're here, too,” said Tarvek, beaming. “You're my favourite neutral observer, Ardsley, and I need one.”

Gil raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Hey,” said Agatha. “If I'm right... we're all neutral observers here, aren't we, Tarvek?”

“Count me out,” said Violetta. “I'm family. I'm not neutral in anything to do with Tarvek.”

“And I don't do neutral,” said Zeetha, with a grin. “Neutral is boring.”

“I should explain,” said Tarvek. “As you all know, I have had no official heir up to now. The title of Storm King should, in theory, next pass to Cousin Martellus; but for one thing we have no idea where he is or even if he is still alive, and for another thing, I think we can all agree that he would be a most undesirable heir. He has been gone for long enough that having him legally declared dead is not a problem; however, he left no legitimate issue, unless he secretly married Prince Dmitri's mother. And that, I fear, we do not know.”

The Prince nodded. “It is said in our family that he did, but there is no evidence. If there ever was any, it will have been destroyed in the war.”

“Indeed,” Tarvek continued. “And so, in the absence of any evidence, I shall have to make a formal declaration that I adopt Dmitri as my official heir. My lords, ladies and gentlemen, here is the next Storm King!”

Perfect, I thought. Perhaps wars occasionally do have their uses, after all.

“So you're going to have various legal documents drawn up and get us all to witness them?” asked Gil. “I can assist with that. I have lawyers here, as you might expect.”

Tarvek bowed. “Thank you, Gil. That would be greatly appreciated.”

“You know, Tarvek,” said Violetta, “that's actually... well. I'm surprised. And in a good way.”

“What were you expecting?” asked Tarvek.

“I wasn't actually expecting you to die,” replied Violetta. “Well, I mean, I was, but not stay dead. I thought you were planning to come back as a vampire or something.”

“Good heavens, no,” said Tarvek, shocked. “I'd have to avoid mirrors. What sort of life would that be?”

“I imagine it would make it rather awkward to shave,” I observed.

“Hey,” said Zeetha. “Where's Dimo?”

“And, for that matter,” said the Prince, “where is Commander Tatiana?”

I grinned. “I don't know,” I replied; “but I think you'll find that the answers to both those questions will turn out to be the same.”


End file.
